Night
by sailortsun
Summary: He came only during the night. And she waited patiently, with her door open. (inspired by poems by shunzei's daughter and fujuwara no ietaka)


_Burning in secret,_

_my feelings will consume me._

_And how sad to think _

_that even the smoke of my fire _

_will end as an aimless cloud._

* * *

She still remembers the way he had walked into her secret sanctuary. The way his sandals were soaked, as were every other part of his body. He still stood straight, as he surveyed the room that she sat in. She was mystified by the way he seemed so apathetic, coming in as he owned the place. It took her a minute for her to realize he was bleeding, little beads falling to the ground, mixing with the water that found its way to the wooden floor. He was wearing a hakama; his cut being the reason why his garment was gradually turning a dark red.

He hadn't said anything yet, so she had decided to take the liberty to speak up.

In a loud voice, since the door was still open, and it was thundering outside, she greeted him. "Hello."

He turned to her, and she was met with eyes that were as dark as the night sky. Funny — she could have sworn they were red mere seconds ago.

He wore a scowl, and seemed to be analyzing her. She sat there, her legs folded underneath her thighs, as her rear rested on her heels. Her feet ached, but she was used to this. She didn't falter under his gaze. Her hands were placed neatly in her lap, and she gave him an apprehensive smile, waiting for the strange man to return the greeting.

Hinata knew what she was doing was dumb. To have let her guard down and have someone waltz into her "home" was dangerous and stupid. Engaging with said person in a conversation was pure madness.

But before she could act on her better senses, and force him out (or try too), the sound of thunder filled the room. Her eyes left his for a second and she saw the sky light up. In an instant, she fell from grace and stumbled out of her seating position.

Awkwardly sitting directly on the ground now, she tugged at the sleeves of her kimono. His gaze hasn't lifted.

"P-Please close the door," she requested, with her voice being hard to hear through the rain from outside. She watched him hesitantly, wondering if he'd actually do it.

He gave into her plea, and closed the door, effectively shutting out the noises.

She gave out a sigh of relief.

She couldn't stand thunder.

"Thank you."

He said nothing, leaving her gratitude to dissolve in the air. Instead, he walked briskly over to the wooden table and placed his katana there. Counting her lucky stars, she was glad he hadn't used his katana against her.

Walking away from the table, he decided to sit down seiza style as well. Hinata silently appreciated his formality.

"You're a Hyuuga," he stated. She was taken aback by his voice. She was expected a more...gruff sounding tone to come out of him, given his features. But, instead, what came out of the man seated across from her was a rather "smooth" voice.

Realizing he was waiting for a response, she gulped, and nodded quickly. She was adjusting her sitting position, reverting back to her original state.

In an attempt to calm her nerves, she ran her thumb across her hand, trying to hold eye contact. By now, Hinata decided she wasn't going to die at the hands of this man. He had ample time to behead her, and hasn't, and the fact that he was aware of her status as a Hyuuga could have made him think killing her would be a farfetched idea.

Although, in the simple minutes she has come to known this stoic man, she guessed her affluent status meant little to nothing to him.

"Sasuke." He stated, in a curt way of introducing himself. It was the least he can do, as he had literally just barged into her home. Or, what seemed like her home. She stopped herself from gasping at his name, as she saw that he was waiting expectantly for her reaction. Instead, she feigned innocence and ignorance and nodded. She repeated his name as if hearing it for the first time for further effect.

He probably knew that she was faking it.

Faking that she didn't know about the famed samurai Sasuke Uchiha — whose katana was brandished as the weapon of a traitor's.

Even though she was sure he saw through her bluff, Sasuke said nothing concerning that. Instead, he asked for something to cover his cut with. At this moment, the blood had turned the bottom white portion of his hakama deep red.

She was embarrassed to admit it, but she was so focused on his face that she failed to remember that he was injured.

Gulping nervously, Hinata gathered her nerves and stood up, declaring that has her own ointment. Her dwelling here served as a sanctuary to many — quite frequently the injured. So, to be modest, she had ample supplies to help him.

"W-Will that do?" She squeaked out, slowly rising to her feet, trying to not trip over her feet. That was a rather frequent thing that occurred, especially when she is as flustered as she was in that moment.

His eyes never left her, as she slowly felt herself wilting under his analytical stare. He nodded.

And that is the first night, out of many nights, that Sasuke Uchiha had stayed with Hinata Hyuuga in her own secluded "home".

* * *

_As I gaze out,_

_how many times will its light_

_be clouded on my sleeves _—

_the moon left in the dawn sky_

_as night passes with rain showers?_

* * *

It was always at night, she noticed.

He never came while the sun was out. He came in with the night clicking at his heels, and Hinata, someone who preferred daylight, soon found herself looking forward to starry night skies.

And of course, that was because he would come along with the night.

Over the time that they had spent, he said little about himself. Instead, he would just sit in the corner of the room, and listen to Hinata speak. He would grunt here and there, and when asked a question, he gave short answers.

There were times he'd ask her something, though. Times that Hinata would look forward too, as his inquiry proved that he was, at most, a bit curious of the girl who would leave her door open at night for him.

To think that he was curious of who she really was made her heart flutter.

She had completely submitted herself to him, not hiding anything. When he had asked what she was doing here, by herself, she revealed to him that this humble abode of hers was a safe haven for others. Anyone she deemed safe was allowed to rest here, and those injured would be nursed back to health. She had left the influential Hyuuga home on her own accord, and has yet to speak to her family.

She was about to reveal that she wished that they would come and look for her, but she bit her tongue and swallowed her words. Besides, she was sure that he knew how she felt anyway. When it came to the pair, words were superfluous. He was able to understand her silence, and she was able to understand his.

But there was always a wall between them. A wall, Hinata knew, she would never be able to get past. She would be lying to herself if she denied the fact that she was trying her best, the nights that he came to see her, to wear the wall down.

Bit by bit, she tried her best.

There were times when it seemed like the wall was getting closer to being completely eroded away. Times like when a sudden noise would startle Hinata more than it should have, and how the unfazed Uchiha's apathetic expression would melt into a worried one, on seeing how scared she was over something so small. And then he would give her a slight smile, bemused by her antics.

That one smile was able to make Hinata come undone at the seams, and the heat would rise to her cheeks quickly.

She wondered if he knew what kind of effect he had on her.

As time passed, and as the night visits grew frequent, she found herself becoming attached to him. Soon enough, Sasuke would find himself to be apart of her routine as well. He would go out of his way to gather what she needed, like herbs for her ointment. It was the way he showed her that he really did listen to every word she said.

Every syllable that escaped her lips was something he desperately held onto.

Though he wouldn't come to see her in the daylight, he'd leave the things he brought for her at the door. Setting it down on the space in front of it, he'd knock once, and then disappear into the trees. Sometimes, he'd conceal himself and watch as she timidly stepped out of her home.

She always looked to the left of her, and then to the right of her, with her sleek hair following her subtle movements. Then, she would see the items, and pick them up, with a knowing smile gracing her lips.

That is when Sasuke would turn away. If he looked on for too long, he felt as though he wasn't able to move. Transfixed by the mystery that was Hinata, he'd be frozen in place.

But of course, he kept these feelings tightly wound, sealed into a box that he tucked away into the crevices of his heart.

Making sure she'd go inside in one piece, he'd turn and walk away. Secretly, he waited for the night with anticipation. He told himself he awaited those nights with anticipation because he simply needed companionship, as did she.

But, at the same time, he knew it was a lie.

His visits meant much more than to him than just seeking a conversation partner. It was as those eyes, that he falsely presumed to be blank and lifeless, filled him with euphoria when they were trained on him. The way she would perk up when she saw him walk through the door done unspeakable things to him.

During those nights, he was just Sasuke. Not a traitor. Not a warrior of any sorts. He was just Sasuke, and she was just Hinata. Someone who he began to find inexplicably beautiful.

* * *

_The door left ajar_

_when he so reluctantly _

_arose to depart _

_I now leave open to the moon_

_in the sky at break of day._

* * *

There were times when he'd stay the night.

It was usually when there was bad weather, and given Hinata's rather frantic state when there was bad weather, he would stay. She knew he was staying for her wellbeing, even though he would say otherwise.

"I'm tired," he'd claim, as he took his place in the corner. She wouldn't refute his claim. Instead, she'd smile, knowing that he was bluffing. To know that he was staying there for her sake made her feel giddy. To have him there to watch over her made her feel safe.

They would talk long into the night. Sasuke would stay in his corner, and Hinata would stay near the table. These were their places, and neither made the effort to go farther away or closer to each other. They were content as is.

And when Hinata would fall under sleep's spell, he would leave. He was never there when she woke up. She'd check for signs for him, check to see if he left his sword behind, but nothing.

There were moments when Hinata questioned her sanity, questioned if he was even real. Those moments were short lived, as she would hear a faint knock at the door, and be greeted with medicinal herbs, and sometimes berries.

She was happy with how things were, and didn't want to disturb the simplicity of things, but her heart ached. Every time her door closed, and he was gone, her heart ached.

She yearned and wished for a day where he would stay.

She knew better than to hold her breath for it, though.

* * *

_In hazy moonlight _

_the image of my lover_

_takes night lodging _—

_here in teardrops on my sleeve,_

_as in that springtime of old._

* * *

He was in love with Hinata.

Even though he did not know how many months it has been so far since their first abrupt meeting, and in which month he realized his feelings, he knew that he was in love.

Sasuke knew that he had no right to love her.

His hands were stained with blood, and her hands were clean. But oh how he wanted to run his fingers through her hair, to see the strands of dark purple fall through the spaces of his fingers. He wanted to hold her gaze and watch, with quiet amusement and adoration, as her cheeks would grow pink. He wanted to hold her gaze and watch as her eyes as they burst forth with emotion that shook him to the core.

He found himself caught up on the way she laughs; how her hand would cover her mouth as she did so.

He was in love with her, and it hurt. This pain was nothing like he had ever felt before. Nothing like his previous battles. For this was a battle he would ultimately lose, because in order for him to win, he would have to taint her.

He would have to crush her.

And he wanted to.

But he wouldn't let himself do it. And so, from a distance, he will love her. He will take secret joy from the way she takes secret glances at him, thinking he wouldn't notice. But he made sure he noticed everything about her, everything she did, everything she was. Especially the way she'd smile to herself when she stole secret peeks.

He will stop himself from acting out on the urge of cradling her in his arms when the thunder spooks her. And stop from simply leaving a light kiss on her forehead, to showcase his quiet love for her. He will stop himself from wanting to touch her skin, her soft skin; stop himself from trying to make her heart beat as fast as she makes his with a single look.

He will shroud himself in silence, and sentence himself to a life of longing.

* * *

_In the evening light_

_what will the sight of the sky _

_do to my heart?_

_Just the sound of fall's first wind_

_has made me sad this morning._

* * *

Sasuke hasn't come to see her in the past week.

Hinata knew she had no right to do so, but she missed him. Terribly. To pass the time, she'd finger the intricate designs on her kimono, hoping that in the next second, he would come. He would come and take her into his arms, and apologize.

He would allow her to cry into his hakama, and curse him to an afterlife in hell for leaving her for so long.

But as the night crept by, there was still no sign.

She found happiness in the people who came by; those who needed help and those who simply needed to rest their feet.

But her heart was longing for Sasuke.

During his absence, Hinata took frequent morning walks. It proved to be productive, as she was able to create new, more effective ointments with the things she would gather. This activity filled in a small part of the large hole that has began to form inside of her.

So, she tried not to think about him, and buried herself in her work.

But it proved to be futile as every thought that popped up would end up to her thinking about him. She was hopelessly infatuated him, and her feelings would soon be her downfall. She knew this well, but continued to nurture said feelings.

Two more nights passed until Hinata was able to see Sasuke again.

It was in the morning when they had met again, which caught her by surprise.

He had brought something back for her, and left it at her door. He knocked softly on her door, and turned to leave.

But Hinata wouldn't let him go this time.

She opened the door, and saw his retreating figure. Haphazardly, she ran after him, her arms out in front of her. She said his name, and at the sound of her voice, he let his guard down, and stopped in his tracks.

She was desperate and she was in love.

His back was to her, and she took the opportunity to run up to him and securely wrap her arms around him in an embrace.

Her face rested against his back as she started the onslaught of curses. In a second's passing, her cheeks were already wet, and she knew that she was wetting his clothes as well. But it mattered little to her.

Sasuke, who has yet to say anything, and simply took in each request that he suffer in damnation, and that he die a million deaths. His back was getting wet, but he didn't mind. He apologized softly, and gently pried Hinata off of him, so he could turn to face her.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she was looking at the palms of her hands.

Hesitantly, she lifted her head a bit to look at him, and then look at his chest.

"You're bleeding," she said breathlessly.

This wound was the worst she has seen. And it wasn't the only wound he had — she just noticed the little cuts lining his arms and face. She could now she the rips in his clothes and how pale his face was.

"You're bleeding," she repeated.

"That I am," he said.

And with no further discussion, Hinata took his hand and led him into her house. The package was left unintended.

Hinata failed to recognize this as the first time she had seen him in daylight.

It would become the last time as well.

* * *

_The one back home_

_whom I promised to think about_

_when I saw the moon:_

_on this night perhaps she too_

_will be soaking her sleeves with tears._

* * *

That night, Hinata fought against her common sense, and sat next to Sasuke. She was still tending to his wounds from the morning, although the most threatening ones were dealt with and put to bed for the time being. Right now, she was simply rubbing ointment onto the smaller, more insignificant ones.

It was painfully quiet, save for Sasuke's slightly ragged breathing. After a while, Hinata was done with applying ointment, and got up and placed it on the table.

She looked on the table for a moment, realizing that, besides the usual commodities that she placed there, it lacked his katana.

Probably why he was so beat up today.

Sighing, she went back to him. This time, she sat with a little more distance placed between them.

He was sleeping at the moment, although she wasn't sure how. He must have been indescribable pain. And yet, there he was, sleeping. Hinata felt as though he was, more or less, at ease, knowing that she was there. Now, it was her turn to look over him.

Bringing her knees to her chest, she watched worriedly as his chest rose up and then down as he breathed. She felt as though if she looked away, it would stop.

She was ashamed of herself.

Despite him being so injured, she was happy. Happy to have him back with her — to be able to be in such close proximity.

She wouldn't hide it now. If she did try too, she would be only doing a disservice to the both of them.

And so, mustering whatever courage she had left, she scooted closer to him. Leaning against the wood wall, she sat next to him, their shoulders inches apart.

She loved him with all her heart. Despite the things she had heard about him prior to their meeting — despite him being a traitor — despite everything, she had fallen in love.

And she whispered this to him.

Finding his hand, she intertwined their fingers together, and allowed herself to go to sleep to the sound of his breathing.

That night would be their last together.

When she woke up the next morning, he was already up. It seemed as though he was waiting for her to wake, but made no motion to shake her from her slumber. His face was cloaked in unsettling apathy, which chilled her to her bones.

She knew what was to come, but she tried to push it from her mind.

She whispered his name, in a feeble attempt to make him stay. He stayed like that, standing, as she remained sitting. Her back hurt, due to the way she slept last night, but she didn't care about that at the moment.

She was beginning to see cracks in his mask while she tried to fervently hold onto what they had.

She didn't want to let him go.

He didn't want to go.

But things had a knack for not going the way the two wanted.

"I'm sorry," he said, after a long period of silence.

She shook her head, no. But he repeated it. And repeated it. Everytime she tried to deny it, he presented her with reality.

Every second felt as though a nail was being driven through the center of her heart, over, and over again.

And with the next thing she said, she broke his mask completely.

"I love you," she said.

And that was when she really, truly saw him smile. A sensation of bliss and grief washed over her. This one smile filled her with both dread and delight.

"Thank you," he said, softly. The way he looked at her, with the warm expression settling over his face, made her heart flutter. It was if he had just left a trail of butterfly kisses on her skin, making her heart swell more and more with affection.

And he didn't need to reply to her confession. She already knew. She wish she hadn't, but she did. Words, of course, were superfluous to the both of them. Everything that could have, would have and should have been said were translated and carried through the silence.

And before she could say anything else, to hold onto this one piece of happiness she had, everything was finished. Just like that, her little piece of infinity vanished.

He was gone. Up and out, just like that. There were no traces of him left behind, nothing she could relish and savor. Now, it truly seemed like he was a character out of a book. That he was just someone who was simply a product of her overactive imagination, playing tricks on her gullible mind.

Hinata, foolishly, still waited at night for him. Her door remained open, but he never came through it. Her heart ached with a heart wrenching longing for something she could never have. Some_one_ she shouldn't have. Someone she still went ahead and cared for.

And she knew that this time, he was gone.

Perhaps, he was never there in the first place. And though she wished he was a simple figment of her imagination, she knew he wasn't, as the pain in her heart seemed to wreck her from the inside out.

Even though it wasn't needed, she wanted to hear him say what she already knew. That he loved her.

She tried to forget. Or rather, put her feelings at rest.

But whenever she peeked outside, and the moon was what illuminated her surroundings, she remembered his face, and longed for his touch once more.

* * *

**a/n** went to the library and picked up a book of translated traditional japanese poems! while reading the poems i kept thinking of sasuke and hinata (whoops im trash) and wrote this on a whim haha (the book is called "_Traditional Japanese Poetry: An Anthology_" translated by Steven Carter ). thank you for reading omg


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